


Give Me Love

by RivetingOmega (Demonwomb)



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: F/M, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, slight mommy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7251199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonwomb/pseuds/RivetingOmega
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She meant it, when she said it. She had connected with Brahms in a very different way but it was still a connection. He was a child that needed to be taken care of and she knew she had to be the one. Or maybe she just wanted to be the one.</i>
</p><p>Greta comes back, like in the movie, but she decides differently at one point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me Love

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hell Bound](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5899093) by [Trubie74](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trubie74/pseuds/Trubie74). 



> disclaimer: Not a healthy relationship. Do not try at home
> 
> This was inspired by Trubie74's story "Hell Bound" which is PERFECT so far :'D I hope there will be more! Other than that: english is not my mother tongue, I hope it isn't too bad.

She meant it, when she said it. She had connected with Brahms in a very different way but it was still a connection. He was a child that needed to be taken care of and she knew she had to be the one. Or maybe she just _wanted_ to be the one. This house seemed like a safe haven after what had happened with Cole, even though she had been scared at first. She should be scared of Brahms, according to Malcolm. If he had really killed that girl, even his love must be dangerous. Greta didn't know why she trusted Brahms, but she knew he wouldn't hurt her, as long as she followed his rules, as long as she cared for him.

That sounded very familiar in her head as well. _Cole won't hurt me, as long as I don't make him angry._ She curled in on herself, her arms still lying around Brahm's porcelain body, rubbing his arm with her thumb. She should run, but where? Outside of this house Cole would find her. Here, she would be trapped with Brahms until his parents returned. And then what? Then what? There was only one bigger threat at the moment.

She inched closer to the doll's body and pressed her lips against his ear.

"Don't worry, Brahms, I'm not gonna leave... But I need your help."

Greta held her breath for a moment, almost expecting the doll's head to turn and reply. But nothing happened and she exhaled slowly, her body almost relaxing next to him. Then she closed her eyes to rest for a few more moments. She must've fallen asleep though, because when she opened them again, Brahms was gone and Cole was shouting loudly. 

She felt an exciting thrill going down her spine when she saw Brahm's message written in blood, when she noticed the slight hint of fear in Cole's anger. How often had she dreamed about doing to him what he had done to her? How often had she run away from him only for him catch her again, like a fly in a spider's net? Never again. But Cole wasn't done yet, he got a hold of Brahm's body and smashed it into a thousand pieces, right in front of Greta's and Malcolm's eyes. She gasped in shock with a hand rising to her mouth. No. No no no _no_.

Then Brahms appeared. Not in a ghostly form, not a spirit that was about to haunt everyone but her. Brahms in flesh and blood, a porcelain face covering his adult face, raven hair peaking out from underneath. When she saw him, when she realized that it never had been a doll, that it has always been him, she knew what he was going to do. She let out a scream, panic rising from her gut into her throat, making her choke as she watched Cole bleed out into the carpet, fearing for Malcolm's life and even her own.

 _Brahms would never hurt me_.

And if he did? That's what men like Brahms always did, men like Cole. No matter how good you were at following orders, at one point they would explode like a time bomb, even if it wasn't your fault, and you would end up losing your child... or worse.

So she fled with Malcolm on her heels and they even found Brahms' hiding place, where he lived and ate and slept and she felt a little sick when she saw her dress on a stuffed doll. He was obsessed with her... 

"He was living in the walls, watching me the whole time and they knew it! They're never coming back!"

Malcolm tried to drag her along but it was hard for her to move, she didn't know why. Everything made sense now and she almost felt like she needed to stay, she couldn't just walk away from this. Brahms was still her responsibility, whether she liked it or not. So it was her fault when Brahms caught up with them, when he beat Malcolm until he was unconscious. She had been too slow.

"Come back. I'll be good, I will!" It was his voice that made her falter. 

The voice of a boy calling for his mother... until she stopped following his rules. His voice turned deep and rough then, muffled by the mask on his face. He threatened to kill Malcolm. Malcolm, not her. Never her... and that was why she turned around, why she came back. She owed it to Malcolm and she owed it to herself. But it was not until she ordered him to bed, that she truly understood what was going on. He wasn't just a murderer and he wasn't just a psychopath. He was both and he was alone. 

His parents had been scared of him ever since he killed that girl and had isolated him... He was ill, he didn't know anything else but this and Greta felt great anger colouring her cheeks pink. They should've cared for him. Instead they had done this. They had burned him, what else would be under that mask, and then hid him from the world instead of bringing him somewhere for treatment and now it was too late. They had failed as parents. Greta wouldn't fail.

"Under the covers," she said firmly and let him slip under.

"Kiss...?" He said with the tiniest voice, eyes wide under the mask, looking up at her.

He was a child that wanted to be close, that wanted to be tucked in and kissed good night, but at the same time he was the very man that had towered over her only a moment ago, sweat glistening on his fuzzy chest and a breath so heavy she could almost feel it on her face. It made her mother instincts kick in but also aroused her in a strange way. Who could she lie to about her desires? There was a reason she had fallen for Cole, there was a reason why she had connected to Brahms in the first place. Tears stung in her eyes as she lifted her fingers to wipe the drops of blood from the cold white surface.

"Is that why you chose me?" she whispered. "Because I'm just as lost as you? Because I'm broken?"

He tilted his head in this childish way again, he didn't even blink, he just looked right back at her like she was everything. 

"'The girl is yours now, she's yours to love and care for'. That's what your parents said... Will you do it?" He nodded. "You will never hurt me? Even when I don't follow your rules?" Hesitation. Then another nod."I will stay with you, Brahms... If you promise not to kill Malcolm. You like him, don't you? He has always been good to you and your parents..." He nodded again. "You have to promise it, Brahms, and good boys never break their promises."

His stare got a little less childlike, like he was frowning underneath, considering her offer like a man would. 

"I promise," he answered in his high pitched voice.

"Then you deserve a good night kiss, I suppose."

She bent down to give a kiss to his cheek, but instead he reached for her, tilting his head so she would have to press her lips to his, and she let him. It was a strange feeling and for a moment she didn't dare to breathe. His grip was firm and strong but it didn't turn to iron, he didn't force her, he just... held her. 

"Please," he whined.

"Alright." And she climbed into bed with him, straddling him with his hard face still pressed against hers.

He was strong, she already knew that from the way he had ripped apart the walls, how easily he had killed Cole, beaten Malcolm. But now Greta could feel his muscles through the fabric and she sighed when Brahms' hands came to rest on the back of her thighs and squeezed. With careful fingers she explored his chest and the skin of his neck, into the black beard that was crawling out from under the mask. His heavy breathing increased, she could hear it echo from underneath and when her hands reached his dark curls he closed his eyes and let out another whine.

Brahms was hard. He had rocked up against her, his cock pressing against the inside of his jeans and making her gasp. 

"Please," he said again.

"Shhh, it's alright." She opened her hoodie jacket and slipped out of it, only wearing her top now and Brahms immediately pressed his face against the crook of her neck, breathing and smelling her, though she doubted he could smell much with the mask on. 

Greta stroked his hair with one hand, the other rubbed his neck while she circled her hips a little, testing the waters, but also giving in to the need that burned under her skin and made her breath shudder. He was so tall and big, she had seen him do terrible things, but in her arms he seemed so fragile and in need of protection, she couldn't help but want him in every possible way. Which explained the wetness that was slowly leaking through her pants and the tingle she felt anywhere he touched her. And he touched a lot. His hands were under her top and his hips grinding against hers, like he didn't know what else could satisfy the need he felt. Brahms had probably never touched anyone like this, he was like a starved puppy with sharp teeth.

But Greta was going to give this to him. She wanted to. 

"Brahms." Her voice was calm and tender but he still jumped a little, like he was being caught. "I want to feel you a little closer."

She let her hands slip between them and opened her jeans. He was staring at her again with wide eyes and even though he looked so innocent, she knew that he knew where this was going. She rolled off next to him to peel off her pants and underwear, screwdriver falling to the floor as well, her original plan long forgotten already. Then she slowly pulled Brahms on top of her. He was so eager to follow, sliding right between her legs and she reached back between them to open his trousers as well. 

"Greta..." His voice was deeper now and she stretched her neck to kiss his porcelain lips. 

"I've got you, Brahms... And I won't go away." 

He groaned and pushed down his pants a little further so she could pull out his already leaking cock. She could only feel it but the flesh was hot and he was so thick it made her twitch with want. She panted against his mask with an open mouth, dampening it, and she felt him move against her with the flat of his cock, feeling up her thighs and groaning when he realized how wet she was.

"Do you feel this Brahms?" she whispered like it was a secret. "This is how much I want you. You love me, don't you? Can you be a good boy and make love to me?"

Her words made his hips buck again, almost sliding in and she had to take him in hand and guide him in. She didn't have sex in ages and her mouth fell open in stunned pleasure when he filled her with his cock and shoved in until there was no room left. He moaned loudly and stilled for a moment, even his breathing stopped. Then he let it out in a long sigh and started to move. It was clumsy at first and she had to move her hips along so he would hit her in the right angle, but at some point an instinct seemed to take over and he got a little harder, rougher, hips meeting with the sound of skin against skin.

Greta had her arms around his neck and kissed and licked at his mask. At some point she could taste a little copper, which confused her for a second, until she remembered Cole. Cole's blood. Another thrill of twisted pleasure made her arch up from the bed and meet his thrusts more eagerly. Brahms had helped her, killed for her, he loved her. No matter how sick his love might be. 

"You're so good, Brahms," she praised him and he whimpered loudly like a kid who wanted something very badly. "Such a good boy... y-you make me feel so good."

She clawed at his cardigan when he fucked her harder, his cock slipping in and out so easily and fast the whole bed had started to creak. She could feel him everywhere, could smell the musky sweat steaming from his pores. But it was not enough, how could this be enough? She could feel that he wanted to be deeper inside of her, he wanted to crawl under her skin and stay forever but he couldn't. So he just clung to her thigh that was draped around his hips with one hand and slid the other under her back until he could reach her shoulder and slam in harder without shoving her up the sheets. 

"Yes," she hissed and bit on her own lips, knowing she would feel so sore in the morning, but in a good way. 

He was nuzzling the side of her face, or he would if he wasn't wearing the mask, a muffled grunt escaping his lips and then the neediest whine, like a dog who didn't know if he wanted to tear apart or beg for forgiveness.

"Just a little more," she moaned and just couldn't stop babbling. 

Cole had always hated when she talked in bed but now she _could_ and it was delicious to see the effect her words had on Brahms. How his cock twitched inside of her when she called him a 'good boy', how rougher he fucked her when she praised him. He might be sticking his cock into her, but really, it was _her_ who actually fucked _him_. And he enjoyed it just as much as she did. Otherwise he wouldn't be torn between feral growls and high-pitched mewls, wouldn't fuck her like a teenager during their first time. 

"So good. That's how you feel, all buried – _ah_ – inside of me. I'll make you feel good too, I'll let you feel good. They all denied you this for so long, d-didn't they? I'm here for you, just come in my arms, Brahms." 

He was moving sloppily again, one leg of his pants already slipped off, feet scraping against the sheets and hips jerking uncontrollably. Then suddenly he stilled deep inside of her and squeezed her thigh with a loud groan. She could see his eyes roll back behind the mask as he came inside of her, shaking violently, the vein on the bottom of his cock throbbing and driving her over the edge as well. Greta didn't hold back her loud whine and cupped the cheeks of his bottom with both hands to keep him inside, circling her hips to ride out her orgasm on his cock. It took a long while before they both came to a complete stop, until they had caught their breath and could open their eyes again. Now she cupped his face and started to pepper the mask with little kisses that made him sigh. It wasn't a frustrated or a needy sigh, it was calm and satisfied. 

"You promised to be good and you were. Such a good boy, I'm so proud of you."

She should feel weird about saying things that a mother would, with Brahms' cock still inside of her, but she didn't. It only felt natural and good and apparently she wasn't the only one who thought so. Brahms only pulled out a little to slide down her body and let his head rest on her chest, cheek rubbing against her soft breasts. She started to stroke his hair and neck Immediately, hugging him close to her like a mother would after her kid had a bad dream.

She wanted to kiss him so badly now, his real lips, but she knew he wasn't wearing the mask to scare people. He wore it to protect himself and she wasn't going to be the one to tear it away from him. He would take it off in his own time and even though she knew something scarred must hide behind it, she was eager to see it. Someone should love him for what was on the inside but also for what was on the outside. People tend to forget that. One didn't want to be loved despite things but because of them.

"We will have to leave, tomorrow," she said at some point.

Brahms only tilted his head a little to look up at her. "This is our home..."

"But they will come and look for us, they'll find the body... and Malcolm won't understand. But it's alright, we will find something nice. A cabin in the forest, or we leave the country."

Now he shuddered in her arms.

"I never left this house before..." It was the voice of a child again.

"I'm with you and I'll take care of you. Didn't I take care of you before?" She pressed his head back against her chest. "We will find something... I am your home now."

It seemed to make him settle down for good and they even fell asleep some time later. 

Later she would wake up from Brahms desperately humping her leg, longing for the relief he had felt with her only a few hours ago. And Greta would indulge, would let him take her from behind until the sun peaked over the top of the trees.

When Malcolm woke up from his concussion they were both gone, without a note. Greta didn't know what to say, there was no sound explanation for what she was doing. Instead she drove her car out of this place, with Brahms lying on the backseats and sleeping with her hoodie jacket as a pillow that he would smell whenever he was anxious. Her heart felt strangely light, like all burdens were gone, even though she had lifted a big one on her shoulders just now. 

Even with Cole she had lived under the illusion that she could be the one who changed him. It was different now, she knew she couldn't really change Brahms, but he was her responsibility and she would not back out of it. One day Brahms might be killed, but it would not be by her hand.

She would love him until fate decided otherwise.

**Author's Note:**

> THE END!
> 
> kudos and comments are much appreciated <3


End file.
